


I Loved Adrift

by scrawlingcomet



Category: Marvel
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Tags will be added as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 16:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8585470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrawlingcomet/pseuds/scrawlingcomet
Summary: Love is strange, it lapses and revives itself. It gets complicated when politics are involved. Love comes late, it comes early, it disappears. Who would've thought the flirtatious king Namor would feel so strongly about love?





	1. Think

**Author's Note:**

> Gonna try to make this a little cheesy~ I promise for no foolish love triangles~

Twice now he’s fallen hard. The first time his wings failed him and the Earth shook open to swallow him, held him there, squeezed till he couldn’t breathe. It was the very person who made him fall that dug him out and held him steady. His eyes brown, glowing like distant fireflies in the darkness.

 

The second time he fell it was more like he was hurtled into the Sun, body ablaze, burning and withering making him curl into himself. Until she brought him back down, a soft breeze against his cheek as she laid him into the sea and rejuvenated his being. Eyes as bright and blue as the sky, until white fog overtook them as she summoned her might, how he trembled at the sight.

 

They were together now. Namor fell again, this time into the sea. It should have been welcoming, comforting, but it was suddenly unfamiliar. When he let his mind drift, he realized his heart was hardly at home, instead it wished to be with the land and the sky.

______________

 

_T’Challa was beautiful. Lips plush and kiss swollen, wet, tugging into smiles wrapping around moans. Canines’ glinting when he bit his bottom lip. Namor couldn’t get enough of him. Pressed against his neck, the scent of the earth on his skin, dampened in the rain, something metallic mixed in from the vibranium that usually clung to him._

_Eyes glowing in the darkness, like starlight, watching Namor, twisting his gut, halting words in his throat. ‘I love you. I love you. I love you let’s stay this way.’ Begged to leave his mouth, but he buried them against T’Challa’s skin. Hold him, hold him, hold him close. Kiss him._

_Rock against him, rock with him, in him. Legs wrapped tight around Namor’s waist, encouraging him, undoing him. Namor shook. Fingers pressed hard into T’Challa’s hips. He took a moment, chest heaving, he looked down along T’Challa’s body. Breathing desperately, trembling. Just a little longer. Pull out, finish him with his mouth, feel his thighs squeeze around his head, feel his hands desperately tug at his hair. Hear him scream, feel his body shake, taste him._

_‘I love you.’ Stuck in his chest, rattled around, seized his heart and squeezed. Look up at him. Marvel at him. Kiss him, one last time._

“You are distracted, my lord.” A hand came into view signing to him snapping him from his memories. Blue fingers traced up and down his chest. A pair of lips found his, he kissed back shallowly. Another pair of lips at the back of his neck, arms wrapped around his chest helping the trio stay balanced drifting in the water.

 

He stopped them. Moved from their touch.

 

 _‘Leave for the night.’_ Namor commanded with his mind. For a moment the two were stunned, but they did as ordered swimming away out of his chambers.

 

That kiss really was the last time. He swam out of his chambers, aimlessly, drifting around Atlantis lost in his thoughts.

 

It’s been years since that last night, things have changed. Things happened. They didn’t talk for a while not anything other than politics. Namor carried on with his way of life, a few brief relationships, political connections made in and out of bed. T’Challa took back his throne, found the white haired love of his youth. They married.

 

He couldn’t hate Ororo. He was actually quite taken with her, crossing paths in the past, and now seeing each other more than ever. What could he dislike about her? In every sense she was a goddess, benevolent, beautiful, powerful, wise, an unyielding force. Who could hate her? Who could hate a union that made his dear friend so happy? Not like she stole him, T’Challa wasn’t an object to steal.

 

What he and T’Challa once had wasn’t anything serious, nothing official or binding.

 

He just.

 

He just missed him.

 

Yearned for him. Pressed against someone else, thoughts of T’Challa drifted in and out.

 

He yearned for something beyond diplomacy, beyond moments of crisis, beyond a friendly pat on the shoulder.

 

Namor still loved him.

 

Loved his ferocity, his intelligence, his tact, his kind heart, how he smoothed out Namor’s edges with ease.

 

He was swimming closer to the surface. It was night he could see moonlight trying to break into the water. The current was picking up as he got closer, the moon tugging at the waves.

 

He stopped. He needed to stop. He needed to think. He relaxed his body, letting himself drift.

__________

 

Namor had to admit. He forgot what T’Challa flirting looked like. How he smiled just a touch sweet. How T’Challa dropped the timber in his voice. How T’Challa fixed his stance to something aloof, but alluring, all too cat-like. He forgot. It felt so familiar however.

 

A hand touched Namor’s shoulder. He didn’t shake it. He welcomed it. He placed his hand over T’Challa’s without much thought, something they used to do often.

 ...

It dawned on Namor. He turned to T’Challa, he was close, very close. His mask was grasped in his hand, his face bare, here in the privacy of his office. All evening, all evening T’Challa had been flirting with him. He didn’t realize? Namor himself was always flirting with T’Challa, but he had gotten used to him not reciprocating.

 

Casual brushes of the hand, T’Challa in his space, leaning in, occasionally whispering when he needn’t, laughing a little louder at Namor’s sarcasm and dirty jokes, like it used to be. Ororo was a lot more cordial to him, as he recalled.

 

Where was Ororo? She was usually here when they retreated to T’Challa’s office whether it was to speak on policy or something casual.

 

“I spoke to Ororo.” He saw T’Challa’s mouth move, he heard him, but he sat. It pieced together before T’Challa continued.

 

“If you are willing, if you feel the same way,” T’Challa began, stepping back to give Namor space. “Ororo is understanding of our past. She’s noticed your sincerity in your behavior towards me. She is willing to let you into our relationship if you are willing.” He was still standing, a little bashful in his face. T’Challa dropped his figurative mask, always so sweet underneath it all.

 

Namor got up abruptly, his height over T’Challa making the movement seem intimidating, just for a moment. He stopped himself. He wanted to kiss the man in front of him. How wanted to kiss him. He missed the feeling. But he stopped. He needed, he needed….

 

“I need to think.” Namor said trying to calm himself. Trying to keep his distance, lest he hold T’Challa press into him like he used to. He was sure T’Challa’s keen ears picked up on the thundering sound of his heartbeat.

 

T’Challa took a breath. “If you wish to speak to Ororo as well…” He trailed off.

 

“I will, I will…I just. Please.” Namor took a deep breath himself. Abruptly, as was his nature, he started hovering, barely saying farewell as he flew himself onto the office balcony and then took off into the sky.

 

 

Of course. Of course! Of course this was what he wanted. He wanted it for so long, but he wasn’t done thinking.

 

What was there to think about?

 

 _‘Do I truly still feel the same way? Thoughts of him haunt your waking moments of course you do you fool! You even think of Ororo! Wondering if she is soft, comforting to hold, if she’d wrap around you like she was meant to fit against you. Why hesitate?’_ He did not like this inner dialogue with himself.

 

Namor wasn’t meant to return to Atlantis yet, he just needed some air, he just, he needed to fly for a moment.

____________

 

T’Challa stood watching from his balcony. He shook his head. Namor was brash as ever, especially when feelings were involved. He chuckled.

 

“I suppose that’s as much as we can expect.” Came Ororo’s voice, she was lounging in his desk chair now. Out of her costume and in a much looser fitting white cotton dress. She was combing her fingers through her hair taking out knots before braiding it for the night.

 

“Well things didn’t exactly end clearly.” T’Challa said walking to her, leaning against his desk.

 

“How did it end?” She questioned. She turned herself around in the chair, so that her back rested against the armrest instead. T’Challa turned to her, knowing the routine. He raked his fingers along her scalp, gathering the hair from the roots so he could braid it in one.

 

He thought for a moment. “Honestly, nothing was ever official. I’ve missed him regardless.” He finished the braid quickly his fingers used to the task, even with her hair grown down to her lower back, it took nothing at all.

 

Ororo stared up at him and then cracked a sly smile. “Well at least you’re better at communicating now.”

 

“Only thanks to you, my love. Only thanks to you.”


	2. Assurance

Ororo watched Namor, he was, stiff. He offered his usual greeting of kissing her hand but she denied him, as she just came from pulling weeds in one of the palace gardens. He seemed to notice as she went about wiping her hands with a rag, but he was not eased. His face was somewhere just below that infamous sneer of his. He wouldn’t look down on her of course, but he was desperately trying not to put up any walls.

 

Namor tried to break the silence, as Ororo had not said much beyond a greeting. “I did not take you for someone to do manual labor, Ororo.”

 

“To be fair, your highness, you understand very little about me.” She ushered him to follow her.

 

“I wouldn’t mind coming to understand you better.” Namor said coming up beside her to keep in pace.

 

Ororo looked up at him, his jaw was clenched, but his shoulders were no longer squared. He wasn’t looking directly at her, concentrating on keeping his nerves from tumbling out.

 

“That would require me allowing you to know me, wouldn’t it?” She said with a little cheek. Maybe she should forego teasing him, for now.

 

She brushed her hands together quickly just to make sure there was no more dirt and she reached out to him, halting him with a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Relax. This will take time. We can take our time.” Ororo smiled at Namor, and he exhaled. For a moment he seemed surprised by his action. He took hold of her hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

 

“I admit. I am worried.” He took her other hand and held both her hands to examine them. Most of the dirt cleaned off, but her fingernails needed scrubbing.

 

 _‘I’ve made mistakes. So many mistakes.’_ Namor admitted to himself, but he couldn’t say it out loud, not now, not here.

 

Ororo sensed he wanted to say more but let it go, lest he raise his walls again. She turned their hands around, to hold his and pull him a little closer to her, tipping up to kiss him on the cheek.

 

“Don’t rush yourself, Namor.” She smiled sweetly at him. She was right he should take his time. He was usually so impassioned, running on a feeling, dealing with consequences later.

He pulled her into a hug, not caring for the dirt on her front rubbing onto his exposed chest. He kept his mouth closed, he didn’t want to open it and let all his fears and worries slip out. Ororo patted his back, letting him know he was squeezing just a little too tight. He loosened his grip, pulling back just slightly.

 

“Please excuse me, I really do need to wash and change.” Namor let go of her and folded his arms behind his back. He squeezed his own wrists, he needed something to hold onto, just a little longer.

 

“We will speak more later, and set up a proper date. T’Challa should be available soon, please speak to him.” She waited for him to nod and then she walked away. He watched her walk she wasn’t far from the bath. She waved at him as she entered the next room.

 

He needed to…he needed to lie down. Why was his stomach in knots? He was tense all over again. He turned to leave for the guest room he was staying in. _‘Just lie down for a moment, you’ll feel better.’_

__________

 

“We can take it slow. We don’t have to pick up from where we left off.” T’Challa’s voice came softy. They were in Namor’s room on the bed. Lying down earlier hadn’t helped him, and T’Challa came to find him after a while. He was lying down on his stomach with T’Challa sitting cross-legged beside him.

 

T’Challa pressed a hand to the back of Namor’s neck, rubbing small circles. He felt the tension in his body ease.

 

“This is new. This is not easy.” T’Challa reassured starting to caress his hand up and down Namor’s back, but Namor stopped him to turn onto his side to look up at him. T’Challa smiled down at him.

 

T’Challa exhaled.

 

“Honestly, I never expected you to agree. I thought things had changed too much. I thought, that maybe you were still raw, Dorma, everything that happened. You didn’t need-”

 

“I know what I need!” Namor interrupted him, getting up to pull T’Challa to him. It was awkward for a moment, but their bodies remembering each other, they quickly set themselves right. Laying down T’Challa pressed on top of Namor, his arms propping up the back of Atlantean’s head. Namor wrapped his arms around T’Challa’s waist. _Keep him close._

 

T’Challa pressed his forehead to Namor’s and closed his eyes. “We don’t always know ourselves. We don’t always know what we need, what is best.” Namor closed his eyes, trying to savor the feeling of being close.

 

“I would never deny you!” Namor declared.

 

“That’s not the point.” T’Challa rose his head and opened his eyes, Namor mirrored him trying to follow his movement.

 

“Namor, please. Please hear me.” He sighed.

 

“I’m all ears.” Namor smiled wiggling his pointed ears. T’Challa was tempted to flick one, but that’d just distract them.

 

“Diving in too fast is both your specialty and your weakness.” T’Challa pulled them up into a sitting position, staying in Namor’s lap.

 

“You need to ask yourself if you’re ready. Not that you want this, not that you think that you need this, but that you are sure.” He pushed back Namor’s hair, made sure he was looking him in the eye. He felt Namor’s grip tighten around his waist.

 

“Please T’Challa, I am sure. I’ve longed for you so. I never thought I’d hold you a-again.” Namor’s voice cracked. He moved his head into the crook of T’Challa’s neck and took a breath. T’Challa smelt more like rain than the earth now. _‘Just tell him you’re afraid. You’re afraid things will go to horribly wrong.’_ Namor ignored his thoughts feeling T’Challa’s arms wrap around his back.

 

“You have me.” As soon as T’Challa’s words clicked Namor flipped them over onto the bed.

 

“Please just kiss me.” Namor was diving again, but T’Challa would let him, just this once.

 

He kissed Namor, desperate and sweet.

 

_‘I missed you. I missed you.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed~


	3. I'm Glad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little glimpses of Ororo and Namor dating.

Bioluminescent creatures glittered in and out like fireflies did on the surface. Instead of just one color at a time, rainbows ran across their bodies outlining their shape in the endless depths of the water. It was marvelous just to watch. Ororo and Namor reclined on a sofa that was reminiscent of an eel’s wavy form. They were in one of the aired chambers of Namor’s palace. The chamber one of the few places for air breathing guests, and a place for him to rebalance his mind when he needed to be out of water. It’s dark in this chamber save for the light made by the numerous creatures seeming to flash in and out of existence.

 

Ororo just finished her first actual tour of Atlantis free of politics. Atlantis was a curious place. A kingdom spliced in time, parts old and ancient, marble architecture broken and hollowed covered in moss, hosting much smaller life. Other parts like this chamber made of metal and glass intertwined and touched with Atlantean taste. Spots of the kingdom hummed with the faintest hint of old magic, while others buzzed with touches of technology, harmonizing to suit Atlantis

 

It was very cold down here in the depths and made Ororo shiver down to her bones, but like most Atlantean’s Namor radiated heat, and was happy to share his warmth with her curled against his frame. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, and her hair curtained his bicep, tickling his skin whenever she moved. Ororo wondered how exactly, he was still warm in just that green speedo of his.

 

“You said earlier,” Namor began, his voice echoing in the curved space of the room, “that T’Challa speaks to you about me?” He felt Ororo shift but she didn’t try to look at him in the darkness, only he could see down here, but she did sit up a little straighter so she could talk.

 

“T’Challa is not just my husband in name, he is also my dearest friend. So yes, we talk about you. He says you are quite the lover.” She said sounding amused.

 

“Quite the lover? I assure you Ororo, I live up to and beyond expectations. I will show you just how good I am.” He leaned in more to her and curled himself a little more around her.

 

“Well that will depend on if I’m in the mood or not, won’t it, your highness?” Ororo sat up away from his chest. She didn’t remove herself wholly trying to keep his warmth just in reach.

 

“As you wish.” He conceded, ready to follow her pace.

 

Namor watched Ororo. He could see her much better than she could see in the darkness, but he could see her best when light shimmered in through the glass. Dancing across her skin, adorning her, nature truly favored her. Oranges and blues looked best washing over skin, like the Sun in the sky vivid against her dark skin.

 

Ororo inclined her head in his direction. “You’re staring.”

 

“I…am captivated.” Namor replied keeping his gaze trained on her. She moved forward in the sofa with her back facing him.

 

Something shifted in the air, Ororo was smiling, he could tell, he could hear it in her voice. “What do you see?”

 

“I see, the Sky. The Sun and the rain.” He reached out to her and pulled her back to him, nestling his cheek against the top of her head.

 

He combed his fingers through her hair moving it so it was not pressed between them. “I see a gale wind tamed and molded into soft zephyrs as your crown. Sunshine sewn into the Earth, rich and dark wrapped around you as skin. I consider myself lucky that you’ve ever thought of me.”

 

Ororo laughed, the sound hitting the chamber and ricocheting back to them. In her laugh, Namor heard the surface at peace when rain hit the ground softly and lulled one into sleep.

 

“So your silver tongue holds true.” Ororo’s head turned up towards him, and he moved his face to hover over hers.

 

“I do hope it has more use than that.” He smiled and cradled the back of her head in his hand.

 

She quickly nipped his nose and let out a huff of laughter. “Whatever shall we do if that **is** all it can do?” Ororo laughed again, she was sure he just rolled his eyes.

 

“Ororo, please, a man’s pride is delicate.” He jested. Ororo snorted.

 

__________

                                                                                                           

“Do you still feel the same way about her?” Namor’s words just barely caught her ears, the wind nearly carrying them away. Ororo and Namor were out for a fly together.

 

Ororo halted herself and hovered in the air. Namor stopped alongside her. The wings at his ankles angled to help keep him balanced.

 

“I suppose I think fondly of Yukio, but we’ve never regarded each other as more than friends.” ‘ _Never openly at least.’_ Ororo picked up an air current and started moving again. Namor caught up with her, flying beneath her, facing her with his arms behind his head his body reclining in the air. He was giving her a wry smile.

 

“What?” She asked unamused. Namor shrugged.

 

“I recognize this.” He chuckled his smile touching high on his cheeks.

 

Her eyebrows shot upward. “Oh? You’re an expert now are you?”

 

“Perhaps. I am well versed in many things.” Namor said so matter of fact.

 

“As I recall it was I who proposed this relationship after recognizing your desperate, longing, gaze.” She punctuated.

 

“Desperate?” Namor huffed but his smile betrayed his mocked anger.

 

Ororo smiled down at him. “Your face is very expressive no matter how well schooled you think you are. And you can never help yourself around T’Challa. Do you think we didn’t notice you stealing glances?” He looked away from her trying to keep himself from pouting, but it just turned into a frown.

 

“No matter. We are not talking about me.” He was still looking away.

 

“Remind me again why we are talking about past relationships?” Ororo asked raising her brows again.

 

He looked back at her his pout melting into something smug. “I believe you have yourself to blame. You asked me about Dorma, and my many, many conquests.”

 

Ororo couldn’t help rolling her eyes. For a split second she considered manipulating the air around Namor to throw his course off. “Yes it is my fault.” She said dryly. And perhaps she got a little carried away earlier, a little wistful about how Yukio slipped away. She laughed to herself. Maybe danced away? That woman was the embodiment of life and moved like she was dancing, happy to be alive. Ororo shook her head and looked back down at Namor, he was smiling up at her mirroring her content expression.

 

“Come.” Ororo extended her hand down to him and he took it aligning himself alongside her. “ It is rare I can enjoy a fly with someone else like this. Let’s make the most of it.”

 

“Let’s.” He agreed with a nod. Fingers intertwined they pointed joined hands forward and picked up speed.

 

__________

 

The Sun set long ago and night sky twinkled with starlight. The sky was exceptionally clear over Wakanda distant constellations and planets easily identifiable. Ororo looked down below them as they flew, Namor’s hand still held in hers. Few of Wakanda’s flying cars hovered and glided along the streets. Everything well below the height the pair flew at.

 

Ororo yawned and shivered the night’s chill affecting her. Namor of course oblivious to just how cold it was up here he showed no signs of discomfort. The palace came into view and they steered themselves to the balcony of T’Challa and Ororo’s bedroom.

 

They landed on the balcony and faced each other. Namor took a moment to admire her. The silver moonlight bounced off her hair like a halo. Her eyes reminded more of the ocean right now dark depths catching flecks of light to remind him they were blue. He took the hand he was still holding and kissed the back of her hand.

 

He held her hand just a breath away from his lips considering kissing her skin again, enticed by her softness. “Until next time, Ororo.”

 

She held onto his hand tightly and moved in close her other palm pressed against his bare chest. He made a questioning noise as her palm slid up along his chest to dip shallowly against his neck and finally cup his cheek. He leaned into her touch.

 

“Yes, Ororo?” He asked, he knew, but he wanted to hear it.

 

“I want a kiss.” She stated.

 

“I believe I just gave you one, your highness.” He wiggled the hand he was still holding, but she quickly turned it around to lock her fingers with his.

 

“Oh? But don’t you want to show me?”

 

“Show you, your highness?” He moved both his hands to the small of her back pulling her in to him.

 

“Show me that your tongue **is** more than silver.” Mirth danced in her eyes as she prodded him with words.

 

“You doubt me your highness?” He bowed down over her and she wrapped her free hand around his neck.

 

“Why I am only just coming to know you, you expect me to have complete faith?” She smiled and began to laugh at her own words but he swallowed that laugh with his mouth over hers. He kissed like a crashing wave, insistent and jostling, but quickly yielding to the shoal breaking to shape along the lips against his. His tongue was certainly more than silver. She couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up from her chest as she realized that he really did taste like the sea. It wasn’t an offensive taste but she swore that was just T’Challa’s heightened senses talking.

 

Namor broke away. “What’s funny?”

 

“Oh, just that T’Challa was right. As usual.” She gave him little time to think about it and pressed up back into the kiss. He’s sure he started floating. Ororo’s kiss was much softer than his. Like padding raindrops, heavy enough to let him know they were there but light enough to be missed with each new press of her lips awakening his senses.

 

He felt light, so light. He started, he really was floating with her, just his flying power alone with her relaxed in his hold, letting him carry them away as she set the pace.

 

He felt his heart fluttering. He was so light like he was rippling out of himself and Ororo was the catalyst. Maybe too light? He settled them down quickly his feet firm on the ground he needed to be solid. That broke the kiss.

 

“Ah sorry,sorry. I didn’t mean…” He felt… he felt? Just too light? He tried to kiss her again but she halted him with her hand cupping his face thumb over his lips.

 

“It’s okay. If you don’t want to anymore don’t force it.” She smiled at him and tried to move back to give him more space, but pulled her back fast and moved them to the railing and pressed his back to it.

“Please, I just need…” To be grounded. She obliged, for a moment, kissing him , her warmth lingering on his lips. She hugged him tightly, that floating feeling still there, but tethered.

 

She pulled them into the bedroom for a fleeting second the tether strained, but she secured him again and led him to his guest room.

 

One final peck told him it was okay. A squeeze at his neck told him to relax. And one more kiss, on the cheek, told him goodnight.

He tumbled to his bed and stared up at the high ceiling. His heart was hammering in his chest, the feeling in his feet tingling, suggesting he was oriented in the sky when he was not. He exhaled, feeling like this, why couldn’t he let himself enjoy it?

 

__________

 

T’Challa slipped into their bed against Ororo’s back. Nuzzling into the crook of her neck, he chuckled. “Don’t you want to show me?” He imitated her voice.

 

Ororo grumbled something sleepily about his ears being too clean.

 

“Only a week with Namor, and he’s already rubbing off on you. That was more his voice than yours, my love.” Ororo only buried her face deeper into her pillow as a response, sleep already weighing her down. He adjusted the satin cap on her head she was always sleeping the damn thing off. A mumbled ‘thanks’ left her lips.

 

“But I’m glad that this is happening.” He kissed her shoulder. She made a sound something like an agreement. He fell asleep listening to her heartbeat, how it sounded next to his, and now remembering how it sounded with Namor’s quick and fluttering one. He wanted to hear all three thrumming together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! Hope you enjoyed :3


	4. Antiquity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW updat! Happy Valentine's Day~

Since the ritual of the Heart-Shaped Herb T’Challa’s senses were dialed way up. Everything is always so intense his sense of hearing, touch, sight, taste, everything happening all at once. But in moments like this, lips against his, hands pressed into skin, coos and sweet words filling his ear, salt on his tongue, being enveloped by the ocean, he was happy to drown in it.

 

Namor did everything, felt everything, and wanted everything so intensely. And in moments like this, T’Challa is his everything.

 

Ancient magic interwoven into T’Challa’s skin, fluid and powerful, and just below the surface mortality binding him to the earth. Above him, the timeless sea shrouding a body that has lived lifetimes, humbled, pressed and begging to be one.

 

_Kiss him, deeply. Again. Breathless. One more. Never stop._

 

T’Challa’s smile is too sharp, his eyes too alert, too knowing. Short of breath, chest heaving, body shuddering, greedy and tight around Namor’s fingers. Open to all he has, and still, still T’Challa commands him.

 

_Beg. Worship._

He does, he does, caresses and kisses coax out soft shuddering moans. Namor would throw away his crown, his title, his everything if T’Challa asked that of him.

 

T’Challa had him. In every sense that mattered, if only he knew. Nothing Namor had could be denied to him, except… _‘Tell him. Tell him. Tell him how you feel.’_ Those thoughts hooked into him, and he wavered, almost – lips to his and those thoughts dissolve.

 

Holding T’Challa’s hands above his head, fingers laced, he carves a space in him. Together. One. Namor’s spine turns to water and threatens to boil him from the inside out. He…somewhere between that moment, he is pushed onto his back.

 

Above him T’Challa rides him slow, agonizingly so. He can worship better like this. Scars old and hard-won, speaking to the past, moments of inexperience, scattered along is body. Where the skin knits together the skin is lighter than the rest of him. Namor runs his hands along skin, smooth planes of skin contrasting with jagged rough dips. He loves everything about him.

 

T’Challa’s hands push Namor’s hair back so that he press his forehead to his. T’Challa’s eyes, flecked with gold, seize Namor’s, a storm on the coast, grays and blues streaked into one. Locked, the look T’Challa gives him is searing, and he’s sure now he’s been boiled away.

 

_Beg._

He does. The pleas racing up out his throat, leaving it sore and raw.

 

_Crest._ Make him cum too. Once more. _Praise._

 

Namor holds T’Challa to him, boneless and drifting. Slow open kisses. He mouths something, in Atlantean, against T’Challa’s lips. T’Challa keeps kissing, he doesn’t know the word etched into his skin, but it feels warm, and he smiles.

 

__________

 

The night reenergizes T’Challa. This time Ororo has him. How he loves her. How is he so lucky?

 

A feast, she offered, pulling him into their bed.

 

Lucky? No he’s blessed. Ororo taught him what it was to _worship_.

 

Her lips against his granting him favor, urging him. Silent commandments engraved into him. He knew her, everything she liked.

 

Ororo’s heartbeat was thunderous, how could he know anything but her?

 

Electricity, real electricity, he was sure, just beneath the surface. A new shock with each kiss. When he sucked skin, he shivered with her. Her pulse in his ears, drowning out his own.

 

T’Challa looked up at Ororo, her eyes and endless blue, vast, and he sighed out dreamy, “I love you.”

 

He wondered really, if she was a celestial being, who just loved the Earth too much, and wanted to be loved in return.

 

Tangled fingers in her hair, feeling down to the root, heat and moisture curling it. She’d fix it later, but now, a cloud of white formed her crown. He untangled his fingers and moved down, low between her thighs.

 

_Offer yourself to me._

 

He did. He had to. He wanted to.

 

_Please me._

_Yes._ With his everything.

 

More wet curls, stark white against the darker lips of her sex.

 

_Steady, steady._ Against her clit.

 

_Slowly._ Parting lips _._ Tasting with his tongue, musky, sharp. A feast he wanted to dine on forever.

 

Thighs tight around his head, he’d stay forever. Tongue as deep as it could go.

 

Hands in his hair, anchoring him to her. T’Challa supported her waist, letting her move her hips as she pleased.

 

_Just your mouth._

 

Greedy mouth. _Hard, steady, steady._ Broken moans split the air.

 

His lungs burned. A cry, a shock, stiff around him, a moment in control lapses, a thunderclap in the distance. He lapped, and lapped, till her tremors ceased.

 

A surge of strength Ororo pulled T’Challa to her. Breathlessly “I love you” exchanged with each kiss.


End file.
